Secret Roses
by Caitriona3
Summary: Hermione Granger has a secret admirer...can you figure out who he is?


_Author's Note – Fun little drabble – can you guess who her admirer is? Disclaimer – JKR owns HP – I own seven books and five DVDs._

It had begun in September. During the second week of school, on a Tuesday as a matter of fact, Hermione received a package in the post. On opening it, she discovered a beautiful bouquet of yellow roses.

"Oh, they're beautiful!" Ginny sighed.

Hermione smiled at her romantic friend.

"Yes, they are lovely, but who would send them to me? I don't know anybody who could afford to import yellow roses."

"Who cares?" Lavender asked. "Be happy you got them."

Hermione shrugged and went to put them in a vase beside her bed. As nothing else out of the ordinary happened, she quite forgot about them after a while. Then came October.

The week before Halloween, as she sat down to breakfast with Harry and Ron, a house elf popped in beside her and handed her a long box.

"These is coming for you, Miss."

As it popped out, she opened the box to find a dozen orange roses. She stared at them in consternation.

"Secret admirer, Hermione?" Harry teased.

"Who'd be sending her flowers?" asked Ron.

Her eyes flashed in his direction and she glowered at him.

"Apparently, someone with both taste and connections, Ronald. These are considered some of the most exclusive gifts since they are very restricted in the import and export business. You really have to have the right contacts in order to get them."

With that, she gathered up her roses and flounced out of the room, grabbing some toast as she went. She never noticed the gaze that focused solely on her.

Two weeks went by. One afternoon as she returned from Hagrid's class, a special messanger stopped her.

"Hermione Granger?"

"Yes?"

"These are for you, miss."

He handed her a single long-stemmed rose. As he walked away, she turned it in her hand. The petals were white at the base, and slowly became red at the tip. The sun came out from behind a cloud and as light touched the rose, the petals burst into flame.

She gasped. They were burning, but not consumed! It was one of the Phoenix roses. There was no more expensive rose than this!

_Who is sending me these roses?_

The Phoenix rose went into its own vase beside her bed. Due to its magical nature, it would never cease blooming. She could see it each morning as it burned in the sunlight.

The roses continued to come. Every month, at random times, she would receive a different rose, or bouquet of roses. In December, she received the ultra-rare snow rose. It's petals glittered like snow during the night and shimmed with a mother-of-pearl sheen during the day. January brought her a bouquet of blue roses – a very difficult color to get right considering the intricate potion it required. When February came around, she received one dozen dark chocolate roses. In March, she received a vase filled with green roses that had petals lined in gold. On the thorns of one of the roses, she found a silver wool thread. Finally, in April, she received a large, glorious bouquet of mixed pastel roses. Such a blend was difficult to come up with given how hard some of the colors were to find.

Every time she received a new gift, she became more and more anxious to discover who sent her the beautiful flowers. There was never a card, or a note, or a message of any sort. With the end of the year in sight, she had to wonder if she would ever discover who her admirer was.

Finally, in May, one week before finals, she received a single, blood-red rose. Attached to the rose she found a card with a message.

_If you would like to meet me, I'll be in the courtyard at dusk._

At dusk that evening, she sat at the fountain in the courtyard. Most of the other students had drifted inside to their dorms, to the library or the great hall. She waited, listening to the water. A steady set of footfalls headed her direction. She took a deep breath, preparing to turn and finally to meet the person who had been sending her gifts all year. She turned slowly.

_**"You?"**_


End file.
